


Arrows

by o_rcrist



Series: Tumblr Prompt [6]
Category: Spartacus Series (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-23
Updated: 2012-04-23
Packaged: 2017-11-04 05:01:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/390021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/o_rcrist/pseuds/o_rcrist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Agrons days in the arena have made him overconfident in his skills, and Nasir teaches him a lesson for his foolishness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Arrows

Nasir was glaring at Agron. He smiled sheepishly, before groaning as Nasir inspected his wound.

“What _possessed_ you, to run at them like that,” the Syrian demanded.

“I believed them to be out of arrows,” Agron muttered. He knew he was in trouble. The Syrians hand stilled for a moment against his shoulder, before they were once again tending to his wound.

“You believed they were out of arrows,” he hissed. Nasir groaned, and Agron could just catch the string of curses he muttered under his breath, as his nimble fingers gently prodded at the wound on his shoulder.

“”Well, they had not fired one for several moments, so I believed they were. Lugo and Saxa ran out as well. I don’t see you yelling at them.” His argument did nothing to help him though, as he received another glare from Nasir.

“ _They_ avoided the arrows, and found cover when the Romans began firing again. _You_ kept running at them.” Despite the anger in Nasir’s voice, his hands were gentle. He was trying to coax the arrow head from his shoulder, but it wouldn’t budge.

Nasir groaned again. “The arrow head won’t budge. I’m going to have to cut it open more, so that I can get it out before it causes further damage and your wound becomes infected.”

He stood up, and pulled his dagger out. He pulled out a wineskin, one of the few they still had, and poured it over the dagger. He wiped it clean, before pouring more on, and then poured some over Agrons shoulder.

“Fuck.” The wine stung as it entered his open wound.

Nasir sat down beside Agron, the dagger glinting in the candle light. “You do know what you are doing,” he asked Nasir. The first hint of a smile was on the Syrians lips and he nodded, “I’ve watched the Medicus patch up plenty of people, I’ve learned a few things from him.”

He trusted Nasir, and did not voice any other objections. Nasir quickly positioned the tip of the blade at the edge of his wound, and with once quick motion, enlarged it by a fraction of an inch. Agron bit his lip at the quick flash of pain, and then again when Nasirs fingers dug into the sensitive flesh. The Syrian was quick though, and a few moments later he could feel the arrowhead being pulled from his chest.

He deposited it onto the small table in there room, and pulled out a bone needle and thread. His brow furrowed as he stitched the wound shut. Agron occasionally winced, the quick poke of the needle through his skin made it unbearably itchy. Nasir was soon finished, and cleansed the freshly closed wound with more wine, and wiped it clean.

His shoulder was stiff, and Agron knew it would be for several days. It was a small price to pay for his foolishness. Of course Nasir was right. He should have taken cover when the Romans had begun to fire more arrows at them, but he had not. He had kept running, his experience in the arena fooling him into thinking he could avoid all of the arrows. He _had_ avoided most of them, but one had caught him in his right shoulder. He had immediately ripped it from his flesh, not realizing that the tip of the arrow had remained within his chest when he had done so.

Nasir had been glaring at him then to; he could feel the Syrians eyes boring into him, as he had run at the soldiers. He had kept running despite his injury, and before the men could draw their swords, slit the neck of one, and attacked another. Lugo and Saxa were right behind him, each taking down a soldier in a matter of seconds. Spartacus, Nasir, and Gannicus followed. In a matter of minutes all of the soldiers were dead, and Agron turned to Nasir, a grin on his face. Nasir had been far from amused though, sheathing his sword, and wordlessly stomping over to inspect his wound. “You fucking fool,” he said through clenched teeth.

Back in there room, in the safety of the temple, he knew his foolishness could have led to far worse. Nasir stood up, and dipped his hands in the water basin, cleansing his hands of Agrons blood. The gladiator sighed and leaned against the wall.

“I know I was a fool, for what I did. My days in the arena have made me overconfident in my skills more than once in this rebellion.” He struggled to find the right words. Nasir has never experienced the roar of the crowd, the thrill that went with it. “In the arena, we were treated like gods. I was undefeated, and because of that I _felt_ like I was a god.”

Brown eyes glanced over to him, “You no longer fight in the arena Agron. You fight in the real world.”

He nodded in agreement. “I know that, but I suppose old habits die hard. The roar of the crowd, them chanting your name, demanding blood. We were trained to fight, and to provide entertainment for them. All of the gladiators have had to fight the habit. We get lost when we fight, and forget that we no longer fight upon the sands.”

Nasir sighed, and sat back down next to Agron. He rested his head against the wall, closing his eyes. “It is a habit that should have been broken long ago. The Romans could have easily sent you to the afterlife. They still could, if you do not break it.”

Agron chuckled, and Nasir opened his eyes to glare at Agron once more. “It would take more than a few arrows, to take me from this life and send me to the next.”

“We’ve both seen Naevia and Mira take down men your equal with one shot. You would have fared no different, had you been running towards them,” Nasir snapped.

Agron wrapped his arm around Nasir’s waist, pulling him closer. He gently lifted the Syrians face, until those brown eyes met his. “But I was not running at them. Lucius is far more skilled with the bow, than any Roman soldier. They favor the sword and spear. Bows are no more than a child’s toy in their hands, and of little threat to any.”

“They still present threat Agron. Does your wound not give you enough evidence to that?”

Agron looked at his shoulder. The wound would be healed in less than a fortnight, but the scar would last far longer. “I suppose they present a threat.”

“You suppose? Are you so stubborn that you cannot admit when you are wrong?”

Agron gave Nasir a small smile, “I admit that it was a foolish attempt.”

The glare was gone, but a scowl was still on Nasir’s face. He pressed his lips to the Syrians, and felt Nasir’s lips move under his. “It was a foolish mistake, and I am sorry for it.” He grinned again, and Nasir slowly exchanged the scowl on his face for one as well.

“The next time you make a foolish mistake; I will drag you back to this temple myself, and refuse to let you leave its walls again,” Nasir said. Agron knew that despite the laughter in his voice, it was no idle threat.

Agron laughed, “You believe that you could keep me contained within these walls?”

A devious smile was on Nasir’s face, pushing Agron back so that he lay on their bed. He quickly straddled the gladiator, and pinned Agrons arms above his head. “I fear it would be almost too easy, to keep you within these walls,” the Syrian said, a challenge in his voice. Agron grinned, “And how would you keep me within them?”

Nasir answered with a roll of his hips. He leaned down, whispering into Agrons ear, “By fucking you, until you hold no thoughts save those of my name and my cock.”

Nasir could have kept him from leaving the temple at that very moment, if he wished. He sought out Nasir’s lips, but the Syrian held his face just out of reach.

“And what have you done, to earn such a reward?” By the gods, Nasir knew how to teach him a fucking lesson.

“I will not make a foolish mistake again,” Agron promised Nasir.

Nasir still kept himself out of reach of Agron, that devious smile still on his face. “See the habit broken permanently,” the Syrian warned him. Agron eagerly nodded, “It will be.”

Nasir laughed, and at last gave Agron the kiss he desired. 


End file.
